


sparklers

by Champagne



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: And a lot of comfort, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, failed proposals, mostly background hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24872293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Champagne/pseuds/Champagne
Summary: “Us?” Tim repeats quietly.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker
Comments: 12
Kudos: 181





	sparklers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [guilt_is_for_mortals](https://archiveofourown.org/users/guilt_is_for_mortals/gifts).



> NO BETAS WE DIE LIKE MEN  
> hello friends it is 1am and here i am with jonmartim because Chao gave me the idea a WHILE ago and i'm only just now getting around to posting it
> 
> oops? also, SURPRISE!

Jon realizes it when his head is against Tim’s thigh, using it to prop his himself up enough to read the book Martin got for him for Christmas. Tim is carding his fingers through Jon’s hair as he watches one of his many shows, this one something about connected minds that is pleasant background noise, when the thought hits Jon that he wants to keep this. He wants to keep Tim in his life for however long Tim wants to stay in it.

He jumps when Martin all but kicks open the front door upon coming home. His face is scrunched up in the familiar expression of frustrated anger, usually saved for Jon and Tim when they do something particularly foolhardy or stupid, but the two of them have behaved well enough recently. Tim asks, “Bad day?” before Jon can, and Martin only nods and throws his jacket onto the back of the armchair as he stalks further into the house.

“I’m going to shower,” he snaps, and the bathroom door roughly closes seconds later.

Tim hums, and gives Jon’s hair one last run before he pats Jon’s shoulder. Jon sits up and marks his page for later, and stands when Tim does. “We should start dinner,” he says, and Jon follows him to the kitchen now. “Think we have enough time to make risotto?” But he starts pulling down ingredients for it before Jon can think about his answer.

Angry, frustrated, his shoulders tense and fists clenched, looking close to crying--it was going to be a long shower, the water hot enough to leave his skin an angry red. Jon nods. “He’ll need to decompress,” he says.

“Excellent.” Tim is already pulling out the homemade cookbook that Jon and Martin made for him for Christmas and flipping to Martin’s favorite risotto recipe, of the half a dozen they crammed in there because of Tim’s unusual preference for the dish. “Maybe we can watch a Disney movie too.”

“Do you want to make him cry more?” Jon asks, half an accusation and half an honest question. Jon knows how to tell if either of them were upset, but it’s Tim that’s the local expert on comfort when it comes to him and Martin.

“I think he’ll be all cried out by the time he’s done with his shower,” Tim mutters, then chews on his lower hip and hums. “Something that’ll make him feel good. Happy.”

“I recommend Mulan, then,” Jon mutters back. He lets Tim pull him to his side and playfully grimaces at the kiss Tim plants on the apple of his cheek.

“Have I told you recently that I love you?” Tim asks, voice low and velvety. Jon feels it go right to his gut and clench and twist pleasantly, and he doesn’t get to answer before Tim kisses him soundly.

“I don’t recall,” Jon responds, finally, when Tim pulls away to attend to the risotto. “I could stand to hear it, regardless.”

Tim chuckles. “I love you,” he says, so casually and matter of fact that it buzzes through Jon’s veins like static electricity. “And I love Martin, so you should go check on him and make sure he’s doing alright,” he adds.

Jon hums and goes to do just that, leaving Tim in the kitchen with a feather light touch to his back as he passes. He knocks on the bathroom door and hears Martin make a noise like a wet grunt, but then he says, “Come in.” 

Jon cracks open the door and pokes his head in, steam fogging up his glasses immediately, but he still doesn’t look around. “Feeling any better?” he asks, softening his voice as much as he can manage.

Martin gives a wet laugh to match his earlier grunt, and sniffles. “Sort of. I’m, I’ll be out in a bit, sorry--” He stops when Jon makes a low noise in the back of his throat. “Right, yes, no apologizing, I’m--I’ll be out soon.”

“Take your time, Martin,” Jon says softly, and Martin sniffles again. “We’re making risotto, so there’s no rush for you to finish your shower.”

Martin keens and lets out a single sob, which then chokes into a laugh. “I love you,” he whimpers, and laughs a little more before Jon hears him take a deep breath. “Thank you. I’m--thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Martin.” Jon feels his heart swell in his chest, and it grows almost to the point of pain when Martin mutters another soft, “I love you.” He leaves Martin to the rest of his shower and presses his forehead against the closed bathroom door and lets the depth of his affection incapacitate him for a few minutes. It’s one of the many perks of loving and being loved, that sometimes he feels so strongly he forgets all of his problems, and sometimes forgets that he has a physical body.

He makes the decision on his way back to the kitchen, still half in a daze. Tim chuckles when he sees him and starts to ask him what’s got him all flustered, when Jon blurts out, “Tim, I need your help.”

Tim blinks, but he still looks fond and amused at Jon’s stupefied expression. “Sure, with what?” he asks, and leans back against the counter with his arms crossed.

“Proposing to Martin,” Jon says. It’s so short notice and unplanned and ridiculously spontaneous, even for their unorthodox relationship, but Jon can’t fathom life without Tim and Martin in it and he wants to keep them at his side. Surprising Martin with a marriage proposal from both of them, with no rings no less, is a terrible idea, probably, but Jon finds himself too blinded by his love for them to care at the moment.

Tim’s smile is stiff, which Jon picks up, but he can’t identify the emotion behind his eyes in the split second before his smile becomes genuine again. “Finally taking the plunge, eh?”

“It’s the next logical step,” Jon says, gruff in his embarrassment.

“So what do you plan on doing for him?” Tim turns his back to Jon to check on the food, and his shoulders are unusually stiff. Jon doesn’t know what to make of that.

“I.” Jon sighs. “I don’t know. I’m not...good at spontaneous decisions like this.”

Tim whips around to face him again, surprise clear on his face. “Wait, you plan on asking him _today?_ ”

Jon feels his face grow hot and he crosses his arms. “I-I know it’s short notice-”

“This is too short notice even for _me_ ,” Tim says, and Jon feels himself begin to deflate, to shrivel up with his overeager embarrassment, but then Tim’s hand is on his shoulder and rubbing circles with his thumb. “But I’m not about to let you go floundering, alright?”

Jon heaves a sigh. “Thank you, Tim,” he mumbles.

Tim leans back against the counter and looks more at ease than just minutes ago, but something is off about the tilt of his smile. Jon wishes he was as good at reading and understanding people as Tim and Martin, but as it stands, all he can do is wait for Tim to tell him what’s wrong or go asking about it, which might cross a line that Jon isn’t aware of.

“What are you going to do about rings?” Tim asks, after a few seconds of silence.

Jon shrugs, and that makes Tim snort. “I wanted you to be with me for that. I’m…” He frowns. “I’m not comfortable making that big of a decision by myself.”

“Ah.” Tim’s eyebrows pull together in an expression Jon _knows_ is sad, but all of the pieces in his mind don’t fit together in a way that explains why.

“Is something wrong?” Jon asks, because he can’t leave this alone anymore.

“No.” Tim waves him off. “Everything’s fine.” He deliberately changes the subject, Jon knows as much because Tim chews on his lower lip before asking, “How are you planning on asking him?”

Jon purses his lips and considers this for a brief moment, before shaking his head. “I’m not good at speeches,” he admits with a grumble. “I was hoping for your help with that. You’re far better at it than I am.”

“Ah,” Tim says again, and this time he looks pained and Jon viscerally hates that. He moves forward, into Tim’s space, and is momentarily confused when Tim shuffles away just a step. Tim doesn’t move away again when Jon makes another attempt to close the distance.

“Tim?” He’s not a small man by any means, but Tim still has enough height on him that, even with his chin pressed to his throat, Jon can look him in the eye by standing close enough. “What’s wrong?” He puts his hands on Tim’s arms, still crossed, and rubs them slowly in lieu of holding onto Tim’s hands like he really wants to.

“Nothing,” Tim mumbles, but he presses his forehead to Jon’s and closes his eyes. Jon plants firm kisses on both of his cheeks, and that earns him a ghost of a smile. “I’m fine, really.”

“I can’t say I believe you,” Jon says wryly. Tim can’t help a quiet laugh. “Something is wrong, I can tell, but you have to tell me what it is. You know how hopeless I am at this.” He says the second part almost pleadingly, and puts on hand on the back of Tim’s neck.

Tim sighs and separates from him, which aches in Jon’s chest. He turns back to the risotto and goes back to cooking, cursing under his breath that they’ve almost ruined it and that it’s too dry. Jon sighs as well, and takes a seat at the kitchen table. He’s almost certain that Tim isn’t going to answer him, but then Tim says, softly, “Don’t worry about me, Jon.”

Jon snorts so hard it physically hurts his sinuses, and Tim looks at him over his shoulder with an eyebrow raised. “Sorry, but that’s impossible,” Jon says, and pauses to reign in his tone because it’s tipping over into harsh. “I care about you, Tim. I’m not about to go on and on about us proposing to Martin if you’re not on board with it.”

Tim’s expression goes blank, and he says, “Wait-” at the same time Martin squeaks from the doorway, “ _Propose?_ ”

Jon curses.

“Now hold on a second-” Tim starts, but Martin starts talking at the same time and his voice is far louder than Tim’s, almost completely saturated in mild panic and giddiness.

“ _Propose?_ To _me?_ ” he says, and his giggle is wild. He covers his face with the towel he has draped across his shoulders and makes a keening noise. “Oh my _god_.”

“Jon, did you-” Tim cuts himself off, and points to Jon, then to Martin, then to himself, then back to Martin.

Jon rubs his face and curses again. “So much for the surprise,” he grumbles. Martin laughs, pitchy and loud.

“I can pretend I didn’t hear it?” he offers, but his voice is brimming with elation and Jon knows there is no way Martin will be able to play dumb about this.

“Wait, so-” Tim cuts himself off yet again, and shakes his head. He turns back to the risotto when Martin giggles out a reminder, and begins grumbling again about practically ruining dinner by this point. “Might as well finish this up and see if it’s still any good,” he says louder. “It’s probably really dry.”

“It’ll be perfect.” Martin closes the distance between them and pulls Tim into a languid kiss that has Tim humming and putting his hands on Martin’s waist within seconds, and Martin draps his arms over Tim’s shoulders.

Jon watches, mesmerized, for a few moments before clearing his throat. “If you keep this up,” he says, going for irate but sounding far too breathy for it. “You’ll definitely ruin dinner.”

Martin separates from Tim with more giggles and grins at Jon. Jon’s entire face goes hot at the pure adoration in Martin’s eyes, and then he blinks and Martin is leaning down to kiss him as well, just as languid as the one he watched, sinking down into his bones. “Propose,” Martin whispers, still awestruck, and he laughs when Jon huffs. “I’m sorry I ruined the secret.”

“It’s rather on brand for me,” Jon grumbles. “My godawful planning ends with you finding out before I can even decide on the details of it.”

They both hear a wistful sigh come from the stove, and look over to where Tim is attempting to save dinner. His back is to them but his shoulders are slumped, and Jon and Martin exchange a glance before moving immediately to go wrap Tim up in an awkward tangle of limbs that can’t quite be called a hug.

Tim looks between them, bewildered, and Jon and Martin notice the redness of his eyes and both frown.

“Tim?” Martin says his name softly, but for some reason it makes Tim flinch. “What’s on your mind?”

Tim huffs and laughs and shakes his head, but the self deprecating smile on his face is unwanted and makes Martin frown. Jon stays silent and watches, hoping that Martin can pry the answers from Tim far more gently than he could if he’d tried.

“Tim,” Martin says, and it’s almost scolding. Tim flinches, then hums his acknowledgement. Martin sighs. “Tim, you have to talk to us about your problems. Between the three of us, Jon is the hypocrite, not you.”

Jon scoffs in offense, but it makes Tim crack a smile, so he supposes it’s not too bad of an insult.

“Just.” Tim pauses, then shrugs and looks down at the risotto, which doesn’t look nearly as dry or ruined as he was complaining about earlier. “Feeling a little...left out, I guess,” he mumbles.

Jon blinks. “Left out?” he says, before he can stop himself. Martin shoots him a warning look and he snaps his mouth shut.

“With the kissing?” Martin guesses. Tim shakes his head. “With…?” he says, leaving it open ended.

Tim heaves a sigh. “The whole proposing thing, I guess,” he grumbles.

Now, Jon finds it near impossible to stay silent. “What?” he says, and feels Martin’s hand on his arm squeeze, a silent request for him to stop, but he presses on. “Do you not want to marry us?” It hurts a little to ask, but just for a moment, because Tim is looking at him with a blank expression again. “Tim?”

“Us?” Tim repeats quietly.

“Yes?” Jon furrows his brow. “Did…” It dawns on him, and feels like a punch in the gut. “Did you think I meant just me and Martin?”

Tim looks away, back at the risotto, and his lips curl into a pouting frown, his cheeks darkening with a beautiful red, and that’s enough of an answer.

Martin sighs. “You two,” he says, exasperated and fond. “How am I the one with the best communication out of the three of us?”

Tim grumbles. Jon also grumbles, but loud enough for the words, “No need to rub it in, Martin” to be heard. It makes Martin and Tim smile, and Martin laugh.

“How about we talk about this at length later?” Martin suggests. He rubs circles into Jon’s back with one hand, and pulls Tim close enough to kiss his cheek with the other. “It’s not something to discuss on an empty stomach.”

“Sounds fair,” Tim mumbles, and gently nudges Jon and Martin away so he can take the risotto off the stove. He adds some more seasonings, cheese and butter, then declares, “It’s done and somehow not destroyed.” He pauses for a moment, then adds, “I blame Jon.”

“Hey.” Jon glares at him, pouting because he knows Tim is being playful. Tim smiles at him, amused and affectionate and, so slight Jon almost doesn’t notice it, grateful.

“You two are absolutely ridiculous,” Martin says with a sigh. “Stop taunting each other and eat before it gets cold.”

“We should take this to the sofa,” Tim says as he serves them all. Martin blinks and is just about to ask, when Tim says, “Jon wanted to watch Mulan for dinner.”

Martin’s eyes go all misty and well with tears, and he gives a strained smile to Jon that’s trying very hard not to devolve into crying. Jon gives him his own smile back, a little awkward because even after so long he’s still not used to loving one person so much, let alone two. Tim nudges them again and they all move together to curl up on the sofa, and then gets up again for a brief moment to grab enough clean dishrags to deal with any mess they might make.

In that brief moment that he’s up, Jon and Martin exchange a glance and wordlessly reach an agreement, and the seating arrangement is different when Tim returns. He stares at them for a moment, a hand outstretched with the rags, and then he shakes his head. He sits down between them without another word, and lets them curl against his sides before Jon starts the movie and they eat in companionable silence.

And maybe they get distracted halfway through the movie, but that isn’t any different than usual.

**Author's Note:**

> if you see formatting errors please feel free to let me know, it is 1am for me and im Tired


End file.
